Lisa Heidke by Lucy (mobi) (book club reads TXT) 📗

nearly fall off the bed in surprise. She’s hysterical; almost incoherent. My first thought is that something’s happened to one of the children, then reason kicks in. My second thought is that Dad’s had a heart attack. My panic escalates when I can’t decipher what she’s saying through her sobs.

My dad comes on the line. ‘Lucy, is that you?’ I want to say, ‘Who else would it be?’ but can tell this isn’t the time. ‘There’s been a terrible accident,’ he goes on. ‘A bomb in Bali.’

‘No, there hasn’t,’ I say, thinking my parents have finally scooted over the edge into madness.

‘You’re safe - you, Bella and Sam?’

‘Of course. We’re fine.’ Except for the fact that my husband and their father is living it up with his nineteen-year-old floozy.

‘That’s a relief. I don’t want to spoil your holiday but it’s not safe there. You have to come home.’

I can hear Mum still sobbing in the background.

‘A bomb? Are you sure?’

‘Happened a few hours ago - Jimbaran Bay, I think -’

‘Jimbaran, did you say?’

‘That’s right,

I -’ I cut him off. ‘Everything’s fine here. But the kids have woken up so I should go,’ I lie. I need to get off the phone. Get my head straight. Find out if what he’s saying is true. ‘I’ll call you first thing in the morning, I promise.’

I hang up. Fingers shaking, I dial Max’s number. My heart’s pounding so loudly it feels like it’s jumping out of my chest. We were at Jimbaran Bay only a few hours ago.

Max’s phone is turned off and fear overwhelms me. I sit rigid, unable to move. I’m sure Max is fine, I tell myself. He has to be. Dad’s just making it sound worse than it actually is. That’s what parents do. It’s their job to terrify you into looking at the world their way.

I turn on the television and flick to CNN. It’s headline news, with video footage of the bomb sites - one at Jimbaran and another at Kuta. It doesn’t seem real. It can’t be real.

The phone rings again. It’s Gloria.

‘Way to go, girl,’ she says. ‘You okay? I was really worried. I mean, I know you’re a survivor and all -’

‘We’re okay. I’m a bit shaken though,’ I say wearily as I focus on the sickening images on TV.

‘Good, good. Now, I might be able to hook you up with A Current Affair, set you up with some interviews -’

‘Gloria!

’

‘What? This is news. Big news. Huge. And news sells.’

‘People are dying.’

‘Yes, they are. Thankfully, you’re not one of them, though it would be useful had you been a witness or got shrapnel stuck in your leg.’

‘Thanks very much for your concern - hanging up now.’

‘Okay. Call m -’

Staring at the television, I try to take in the information as words and numbers skip along the bottom of the screen - many dead, more injured and unaccounted for. I feel numb. I’m certain something bad’s happened to Max. Something really bad.

I don’t want to think the worst but it’s impossible not to. Images rush into my mind: hearing that Max is dead, having to tell the children they’re never going to see their father again. It’s too much to bear.

I call his number again even though I know it will yield the same result. His phone is off. I call his hotel but there’s no answer.

I sit in a daze, torturing myself with horrible scenarios about Max’s death, each one more gruesome than the last.

The phone rings again. It’s Nadia.

‘Trish is frantic,’ she tells me, after checking the kids and I are safe. ‘Alana’s phone’s switched off and there’s no answer at her hotel.’

‘Yeah, I’ve tried as well. Tell Trish I’ll ring when I find her.’

‘Lucy, are you sure you’re okay?’

‘I will be once I find Alana and Max.’

Max’s name gets caught in my throat. I say a quick goodbye to Nadia and hang up. I can’t let myself think the worst. It serves no purpose, and I have to be brave and upbeat for the sake of the kids.

‘Who’s calling so early in the morning?’ Bella asks as she stumbles into my room, yawning, her hair over her face. It’s nearly five o’clock.

‘Housekeeping,’ I mumble. I haven’t even noticed the sun come up. I feel frozen with shock.

Bella, sensing that all’s not well, climbs into my bed and gives me a cuddle. I hold her close until she dozes back to sleep.

By seven o’clock Max still hasn’t phoned. I call his hotel and, once more, the receptionist puts me through to his room. As it rings, I think how horrific it would be to have to tell Sam and Bella that their father has gone . . . forever. Having to tell his parents, work, the families at school . . .

‘Sorry, ma’am, no answer,’ the receptionist says after a few minutes, exactly as she has done the other five times I’ve rung.

The mood at breakfast is subdued. The Indonesian staff stand in groups, shaking their heads and looking miserable.

‘What’s the matter, Mum?’ Bella asks. It’s obvious to her that something’s wrong because the Balinese are usually so friendly and relaxed.

‘There’s been an accident,’ I explain, ‘just near where we ate dinner last night. I need to find Daddy -’

‘Was he in the accident?’ Bella says, stricken.

‘No, but I need to make sure, okay?’

Then I lose it and start to cry. Bella does too. Sam joins in. Suddenly the three of us are sitting at the breakfast table holding hands, tears streaming down our cheeks.

‘One of the ladies from the hotel will look after you,’ I say. ‘You can still go swimming but you have to stay together.’

‘Why can’t we come with you?’ Sam asks. ‘Dad said he was coming to the hotel after breakfast.’

‘And he still might. That’s why I need you to stay here and wait for him.’

I explain to Sari, the woman who’ll be looking after them, that the children can swim in the pool but need to wear hats